


The Art of French Cooking

by mygiantoflannister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, SanSan Russian Roulette, Sansan Russian Roulette 2018, summer sansan russian roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mygiantoflannister/pseuds/mygiantoflannister
Summary: Sandor somehow gets roped into taking a cooking class that Sansa is teaching (written for the Summer SanSan Russian Roulette).





	The Art of French Cooking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schave7728](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schave7728/gifts).



> [View the picspam for the story here!!!!](http://mygiantoflannisters.tumblr.com/post/175364939280/the-art-of-french-cooking-sandor-somehow-gets)

“Listen man,” Bronn said to his roommate one afternoon, “we both know you make the best burgers anyone’s ever had, but if I eat another one, I think I might get desperate enough to eat a damn Tide Pod or whatever the kids are doing these days. You gotta start pulling your weight around here.”  
“The most exotic thing you can make is a protein shake with fucking banana and peanut butter, Bronn,” Sandor retorted, “so don’t even start with this ‘pulling my weight’ shit.”  
“You’re right,” Bronn agreed.  
“Just because I don’t have a five course meal waiting for you when you get h--” Sandor paused, realizing Bronn had agreed with him. “Wait, what? I’m right?”  
“You’re right,” Bronn repeated.  
Sandor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Where’s the poop, Bronn?”  
“There’s no poop!”  
Sandor crossed his arms, waiting for his friend to break.  
“Alright, fine.”  
“I knew it.”  
“Now, don’t get mad, but--”  
“Off to a fabulous fucking start.”  
“I signed us up for cooking classes. First one’s this Saturday.”  
Sandor opened his mouth in protest.  
“And before you say no, I checked your schedule already, and you’re not working. Plus, Margie’s friend teaches the class, so she got us the friends and family discount. That way, if we don’t learn anything, it wasn’t a complete waste. Well, maybe a waste of time, but not money.”  
“So this was all Margaery’s idea,” Sandor said.  
“...Yeah,” answered Bronn, sheepish. “She was sick of the protein shakes, too.”

* * * * *

“So,” Margaery said, taking her usual spot at the table right in front of Sansa, “what’s on the menu for today, Professor Stark?” Margaery always came to class fifteen minutes early to gossip with her best friend before the other students arrived. Usually, she partnered with whoever took the seat next to her first, but today she put her purse on the other seat, saving it for Bronn.  
“I told you, Margie, you don’t have to call me Professor Stark,” Sansa said, rolling her eyes lightheartedly, “you can call me Sansa like everyone else.”  
“Fine,” she capitulated, “but Professor Stark is way hotter.”  
“I’m here to teach a cooking class, Margie, not find a husband.”  
“Everyone knows the best and fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”  
“Your point?”  
Margaery’s phone buzzed. “Oh yay!” she exclaimed, glancing down at the notification, “Bronn and Sandor are almost here!”  
“Sandor...have I met him yet?”  
“Oh trust me, Sandor’s not a guy you can forget.”

* * * * *

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this,” Sandor complained as he and Bronn got in his pickup truck to head to the cooking class. “What kind of food are we even learning to cook? Knowing Margie it’s probably some fancy shit.”  
“It’s a French cooking class.”  
“Like I said. Fancy shit.”  
“It’s classy, my friend. The ladies eat this kinda shit up.”  
“The only lady I’m cooking dinner for is you, dumbass.”  
“Sansa’s a dime. Maybe you two will hit it off. You gotta put the moves on her, man. I know you got it in you.”  
“How the hell am I supposed to put any moves on her if she’s the one teaching the class?”  
“Easy. Roll up your sleeves a little. Show off those big muscles while you’re cracking eggs. She’ll be hooked.”  
“We’ll see about that, idiot.”  
They drove the rest of the way in silence.

“Bronnie! Over here!” Margaery called as he and Sandor entered the classroom. “I saved you a seat.”  
The first thing Sandor noticed as he took in his surroundings was that there wasn’t a single empty seat in the room now that Bronn had taken the last one next to his girlfriend. The second was that Sansa was way more than a just dime, like Bronn had said. She was a whole goddamn dollar.  
Her gloriously red hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and her bright blue eyes were lit up as she giggled at Margaery and Bronn’s antics.  
“Hi,” she said, walking over to Sandor as the rest of the class chattered amongst themselves. “You must be Bronn’s roommate. I’m Margaery’s friend Sansa.” She smiled, looking him straight in the eyes as she reached out a dainty hand for him to shake, not so much as flinching at the mass of scars covering half his face.  
“Uh, hi, yeah, I’m Sandor,” he stammered, shaking her hand, blown away by this beautiful woman who wasn’t repulsed or angry but actually looked happy to have him there.  
“Unfortunately, with you and Bronn joining the class we’re one spot short, so you’ll have to partner with me, if that’s ok.”  
“O-of course; that works. You’re the boss, right?”  
At that, she chuckled. “That is true. Normally, I’d never put you on the spot like this, but I already tried asking Margie to partner with me and she refused. You know how she gets when Bronn’s around,” Sansa said conspiratorially, her voice low. “She acts like a teenage girl drooling over some dumb celebrity.”  
Sandor laughed aloud at her candor. “Bronn’s even worse.”  
“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” she grinned. “Well, if you’ll join me at my table, we can get this class started!”

Sansa turned out to be an excellent teacher. Sandor’s coq au vin came out much better than he expected it to, and Sansa seemed genuinely impressed, but his good luck ran out when it came time to make dessert. Chocolate soufflé. Easy enough, Sandor thought, right?  
Wrong. So wrong.  
When he took the soufflé out of the oven, the top had fallen, and it looked nothing like the sample soufflé Sansa had shown the class beforehand. Crestfallen, Sandor absentmindedly poked at it.  
“I guess I can’t be good at everything, huh?” he joked.  
“Hey, don’t sweat it, Sandor!” Sansa said cheerfully. “I can’t even tell you how many soufflés I ruined before getting it right. They’re tricky for sure.”  
“So why teach it?”  
“Everyone loves a challenge.” She shrugged. “It makes it more meaningful when you succeed.”

At the end of the class, Bronn and Margaery beckoned Sandor over to their table while Sansa stood by the door, saying goodbye to her students.  
“Soooo, you and Sansa looked like you were having a great time up there,” Margaery began, signature crooked smirk on her lips.  
“She’s a good teacher,” Sandor said, remaining as neutral as possible.  
“Mhm,” Margaery was smug. “I bet.”  
“Margie and I are going out for coffee,” Bronn said, “Ask Sansa to come with us.”  
“I don’t want to bother h--”  
“I will steal your car and strand you here,” Bronn threatened, “unless you invite her.”  
“Fine,” Sandor huffed as Bronn and Margaery headed to the door.  
“We’ll give you two some space!” Margaery said softly, taking Bronn by the arm.  
“Sandor!” Sansa brightened as he approached. “Great job today!”  
“Oh, uh, thanks, Sansa,” he said, suddenly shy. Am I fucking blushing? “Couldn’t have done it without such a great teacher.”  
“Thank you,” she said, sincere, touching him on the arm, “That means so much to me. Really.”  
“I mean it. Now I have something else in my repertoire besides burgers.”  
“You wanna know something embarrassing?”  
“Uh, sure?”  
“I can’t make burgers. I ruin them every time.”  
“But burgers are so easy!” Sandor was shocked. “I mean, if a big dumbass like me can make them…” Realizing she might see his outburst as rude, he attempted to correct it, but only made it worse. “You know what? I’m just gonna stop talking before I totally offend you.”  
“You’re fine,” Sansa giggled, “So, I’ll see you next week?”  
“Actually, Bronn, Margaery and I were gonna go get some coffee, if you’d like to join.” There. That wasn’t so hard, dog.  
“I’d love to!”  
“Really?” he said, in disbelief that this gorgeous woman actually wanted to spend more time with him than she had to.  
“Of course, silly! Lead the way.”

* * * * *

“Sansa and I are going to use the ladies room,” Margaery told Bronn and Sandor. “Don’t talk too much shit while we’re gone.”  
“Margie what are you d--” Sansa began as Margie shut the bathroom door behind them.  
“I see you Sansa Stark,” she interrupted, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.  
“See what?”  
“You and Sandor, silly.”  
“What about me and Sandor?”  
“Sansa and Sandor sitting in a tree,” she teased in a singsong voice. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”  
“Oh, please,” Sansa tried to be serious, but couldn’t help cracking a grin at her best friend’s antics.  
“So there’s nothing going on? You’re not into him?”  
“I never s--”  
“You know, I think Dany is single right now. Maybe I should set her up with Sandor. She loves those big meatball guys.”  
“Dany isn’t single,” Sansa said quickly. Too quickly. She’s so onto me.  
“Aha! So you do like him!”  
“He’s very sweet, and very attractive. The more I talk to him the less I notice the scars and the more I notice all those muscles.”  
“Sweet? Sandor Clegane?”  
“Yes! He was so cute in class when he was trying to be sly and impress me.”  
“Did he?”  
“Did he what?”  
“Impress you?”  
“Yeah. His coq au vin was perfect.”  
“Oh I’m sure his coq is quite impressive,” Margaery smirked.  
“Margaery!” Sansa smacked her friend’s arm, shocked but not surprised by her brazenness.  
“Just promise me you’ll ask for his number if he doesn’t ask for yours? Sandor’s a great guy, but he can be kind of shy and reserved when it comes to girls.”  
“Okay,” Sansa agreed, and the girls headed out of the bathroom to rejoin the boys.  
Bronn and Sandor must’ve been having a similar conversation, because they immediately stopped talking as the girls sat back down.  
“What did I say about talking shit while we were gone?” Margaery teased.

“Hey, Sansa, what are you doing this Friday?” Sandor asked as he walked her to her car.  
“Nothing,” she smiled up at him. “Why?”  
“I was thinking I could cook you dinner, now that I’m a Master Chef.”  
“Wow. One cooking class and he thinks he’s better than me. Unbelievable,” Sansa joked.  
“Well you’ll have to come so you can see who’s better.”  
“I’ll be there,” she said, handing him her phone so he could add his number.  
“See you Friday,” he grinned. Gods he’s so cute.  
“See you Friday.”

On Friday, Sandor cooked Sansa burgers for dinner. They were the best burgers she’d ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! I haven't written fanfic in literal years so thank you to @Schave7728 (@wishingforalastingsummer on tumblr) for such a cute prompt to help me get my groove back!!! Please lmk if anything was off or if anyone seemed too ooc, and leave all questions/comments/concerns below.


End file.
